Underneath
by LumenIzampel
Summary: Even without her hair up or her corset tied, Mary still acts like the James Kidd she will never be.


Mary doesn't like being naked one bit.

If one knows Mary very well, it would have been evident why – as a person who dresses as a man for majority of her life, being bare-naked would mean her secret revealed, and she has taken it as a habit to make a man's life something she should learn to do even with her corset untied and her hair undone.

Still, James was merely a non-existent man in a woman's body and it shows often, yet the age card seems to excuse him from any effeminate act that slips through. Every night, she had gotten used to sleeping in with her corset tied and her hair up; though she takes great care to sleep carefully if she were not to ruin any of both. Although her crewmates and fellow pirates found it strange that she's the only one not taking off shirts when they rest for the night, no one questioned it further, even though it was the summer heat. It was painful, and she was sure that it would result to several breathing and back problems with keeping her bosoms from shaking out, but still, it was the kind of pain she could endure in exchange for James Kidd to live on the pirating for her.

And the days come in when she had either tied the knots too tightly, or too loosely. It happens a lot – her corset is not exactly that much of high quality, it was only made out of the sturdiest sack cloth she could find. It was itchy and it gives her the occasional rash, but it was better than nothing; after all, it was a makeshift corset, and poor men and women cannot complain. She would get an actual leather or cotton corset if she had the budget or the time, but she was certain that her crew would raise an eyebrow or two if her crewmen saw their beloved James Kidd buy women's clothing. That would have been a curious sight!

And here comes the day when the quality of her corset seems to matter, for she have knotted and tied her corset too tightly; Mary was called out way too early, and had knotted her corset too snugly in her haste. The group quickly noticed their young Jim's discomfort – Thatch was the first to see and asked if he had buttoned anything too tight or if the July sun was troubling him, but Mary shook it off, saying that a glass of rum might ease off the non-existent heat that was troubling her. In the end, they had set aside their James's discomfort, the issue drowning in the sea of liquor and tales of treasure and plunder.

As soon as the other men have drowned in their stories, with Edward talking about a small naval contract he had received about a poison doctor smuggling medicines, she made a quick excuse about her crewmen and left for a bit, if only to find any private corner to adjust the damned thing, or maybe just scratch off whatever itch was on her sides at the moment. It didn't seem to matter to them, or if they noticed, they just did not care. Mary took great care not to run too swiftly – if she ever tries to breathe in one bit, she was sure she'd faint on the spot, and the preferred private corner was not too far away – it was only a couple few yards from the tavern, perfectly hidden behind leaves and back alleys. A conveniently-placed screen of sorts, made out of leather, blocks it from plain sight. Only a keen eye would even spot that corner, let alone know that someone is hiding in the shadows. After hiding in the corner, making sure that she was well-hidden, she peeled off her outer coat and started pulling in the strings to undo the knots, before adjusting the damned thing to her comfort.

She was in the middle of stringing it back when she heard a rustle of leaves, and she dared not even breathe as she knotted the damned corset back, taking great precision not to strangle herself for the second time around.

Then the rustle repeated again, and careful knotting became nervous fumbling as she fails to knot a few parts. She could feel the corset loosening ever slightly, and as the rustle repeats again, she pulled the string in surprise and wailed out a slight cry of pain.

"Jim?"

Damn… and it have to be Edward of all people.

"Stay back!" She fixed all the wrong knots she had made, threw on her white shirt and went out just as she had it buttoned to the collarbone. Edward looked at his Jim curiously, as if she had come out of a nightmare he'd rather not retell, but he seemed interested in knowing details. Or was it that he doesn't exactly seem to know what he's looking at right now, given the faint smell of rum on his being? Mary would rather not guess.

A moment of silence as Edward just watched her put on her outer coat and tie her corset, then after she was fully dressed, neither one of them dared to talk nor move. After Mary had shot a curious glance to Edward, as if she was waiting for him to say something, Edward clears her throat and _burped _before starting, "What the hell were you doing in there?"

Mary decided to move forward, and Edward followed on to her relief; she was surprised in the fact that he's still saying coherent sentences alone. "And what's in it to you? You did not see anything, did you?" She was _itching _to change the subject, and it would have been easy to do if the man was… well, a lot more piss drunk than he is now.

Without much pause, he answers, "Not really, but it reminded me of the tattoo on your chest for some reason. It's a beautiful thing, you know?"

Here he is again.

Mary was not exactly certain if she regrets ever telling him that James Kidd is just a woman with a corset and a head wrap, for he finds every possible reason to hint at it or make it seem like he is the luckiest person alive for him to know about it. Guess what, if she does ever untie her corset, he'd be too distracted with the bosoms he sees that he wouldn't see the knife on his face. She would not exactly call that a fortune worth looking forward to.

"Yeah, I do agree it is a beautiful thing… though I also have to say that I have more taste than you do in tattoos." There was something about teasing Edward that makes Mary want to keep pissing him off – it may be his determination to win a verbal argument, or just the fact that she seems to have been fond of his reactions ever since they have met. Her statement had the desired effect – be it the rum or whatever, she couldn't bring herself to care – he could see his face scrunching up in disgust. Or was that annoyance? Both emotions seem to paint the same shade on him.

"Oh? How is that so? Is lack of air giving you a fever now or do you get drunk off air nowadays?" Edward was quick to snap back, and Mary was not going to lose. She gave him a quick jab on the shoulder and treaded on ahead, which slightly sent Edward off-balance. Even while sauced, Edward's comebacks seems to get as sharp as the blades he wield, the banter continuing as they walk back.

"You should probably smell yourself; I could catch the scent of sugar cane, alcohol and sea fever on your breath!"

"The sea fever's on you, lass! Those sea legs of yours might toughen you up once you're in a coffin!"

"Oh, I can say that the sea's been in my veins, Kenway! Son of William Kidd, remember?"

They were near the tavern, and the banter starts to die down as it was getting evident that Edward's ferocity is fading not because of liquor, but fatigue. It had been quite pointless to drag him back to the tavern, either way – it was getting late, and Thatch said that he'd love to see Edward again once he's _actually _prepared to win a drinking game. "A few months," Thatch said in-between mugs of rum, "maybe we'll see each other, or maybe by that time, we're either hanged or sauced!" Then he emitted the most obnoxious laughter that had ever been matched in a morbid joke, but it's like Blackbeard was sober enough to judge, anyway.

And so, Mary ended up half-dragging half-carrying the man back to the Jackdaw. Fortunately, Edward is still quite awake, and the weight was laid off her by the slightest, at least. But Edward won't stop _talking. _He kept on raving about the Jackdaw, how trustworthy Adewale is, how he wished the Assassin robes were red instead of blue, and other things that does not seem to bear any significance at all.

Mary merely nodded or shook her head everytime Edward inquires something, and tried her best to make conversation with this man short. Not only was his company unnerving at his lack of perception with his environment, the fact that she even had to _touch_ him – much more, carry him – made her feel odd. She has never touched anyone in the opposite gender before – heck, not even her crewmates, except when they were injured, which was a completely different thing.

She felt herself shrinking, but she was not sure of the reason. After all, she and Edward were comrades. Be it the itch from her corset or the heat from the weather or the unfamiliarity of body contact, it made her queasy, either way. What a convenient time to become a woman, when you have so many things to protect, from your dignity to your virginity!

But she remembered – she did not mind so much when circumstances prompted her to reveal her identity to Edward. Was it because she had been practicing on how to reveal it to him, or was it because she really does think of him highly? She did not have that in mind when she undid her corset right in front of him right before they started their search for Prins and the Sage; then again, if she had kept her secret all this time, the Templars would not be mourning over a certain Lauren Prins' death. (She was not even sure if he had held any emotional importance with them; all she knew that they lost the Sage thanks to his death.)

Yes, the point where personal problems and work coincide.

Edward seems to have noticed the silence, and after some time, a few yards from the Jackdaw, he asked, "What's the matter, Jim? Is something troubling you?"

"It troubles me how you can remain stupid and aware at the same time, Kenway." She adjusted the man right on her shoulder, before inquiring, "What the hell happened anyway? Do you get drunk easily these days or did some sea spirit haunt you for plunderin' her ship?"

"T'was not the booze, that's for sure. Only had a few cups. Only one, if I remember right. Then I suddenly feel like my brain is screaming at my skull and I fucking want it to stop, but god-damn it, Ji—Mary. Mary, I'm tired and I- I don't think I feel so well…"

"That's 'cause you're stupid, Kenway. If you're tired, go rest. Is that logic so hard to understand?" The words came out before she was able to think, and honestly, she did felt quite annoyed. Mary knew that his dreams were so far-fetched – the" big score", the Observatory, what else? – but Heaven be damned, he was sure jumping up and running too far to get them, with no moment to spare to look around and evaluate. He'd be dead and buried underneath his big score before he knows it.

And here he was wondering why he needs someone else – a woman's shoulders for support just to get back on his God-damned ship. How glorious!

But even though she felt annoyed, she already felt that something was wrong. Was Edward sick? Tired, or sea fever gotten to him? She wasn't certain, but he seemed to be suffering with a familiar pallor on his face, something that she can name but was lost at the tip of her tongue. "Now tell me, what the hell happened?"

Edward did not respond, but that was because he saw the Jackdaw before Mary did. Upon seeing the ship, she felt relieved, but unfortunately for her, Adewale was out managing the repairs and adjustments on the ship, and so it was her, Edward, and a handful of the crewmen who were willing to help the adjustments. The crewmen were up on the masts, fixing the sails, and they only managed to wave to the disguised Mary without dropping to either the deck or the sea fifty meters below.

Mary did not even hide her annoyance on the situation and as soon as she got in the cabin, she threw the man right on the table, possibly breaking a few items or crumpling a few maps and papers. The impact must have prompted Edward to return to his senses somewhat, standing up from the uncomfortable position he was subjected to. He caught sight of Mary, still in her James persona, just leaning against the doorway, staring at his being as if he had popped out from right between bamboo shoots. Instead of asking where he is or what happened, he just inquires:

"Why are you making that face, Mary? Have I done something wrong?"

She could have said a mile-long list, but Mary lacked the words to say. She was so _amazed _on how resilient he is on such situations, and was about to spit out a sarcastic reply – because _fuck your fatigue, fuck your booze, fuck everything you do-_

"Nothing." The words were lost in her lips. The man looked disappointed, but he was not to blame. "I was just making sure that you're well here. I'll return to my ship now."

She said it like it was a practiced line, and quickly turns away to leave, feeling that he is invading his private space, but Edward's voice stops her, and she turns to him in search of what he has to say. It took him a few moments before he was able to scramble up and stand properly before he said it.

"You know, I would love to see you out of those trousers."

Disgust distorts Mary's features, but it was later on followed with a chuckle. He's obviously tired and was slammed against a table, yet that's the next thing he says? Afraid of anyone overhearing them, she said, "Are you touched in the head? Do you want a dick on your face?"

"No, no, I meant…" he laughs out, finding his choice of words terrible, but he was no poet or writer, and he seems to be taking and using whatever words seems to fit. "I meant I'd love to see you out of that disguise."

He's really going _that _route. "You've already seen me out of my disguise, haven't you? Or were you asleep when I untied my corset in front of you?"

"I've never seen you in a skirt, or walk like a woman, hell, I've never even seen you neither with a flower on your hair nor ribbons against your neck." He paused; as if he was letting his words sink in into Mary's head. "Your face may look like Mary, but you're still acting as an embodiment of a non-existent James."

Was it like that? Was that Edward was thinking? Or was all the insecurity about her feminine self merely a thing she should have just ignored, by the moment she had undone her corset in front of her? Uncertainty just fills her brain, and in a moment she was just as drunk in fatigue and confusion as Edward was.

"You know, what, you're tired. Go to bed, Kenway, and I'll see you tomorrow morning." She dragged the man out of the table,

"You're not answering my question, Mary."

No response. She merely throws her onto his bed, and may have threatened to tie him on the bedposts if he refused to sleep. Eventually, he calms down from his trashing around on the bed and had actually tried to sleep, yet the stories and rambling from him would not stop. Mary thought it was fine to let him talk; soon enough, he would be too tired to open his lips.

While Edward was in the middle of his drug-addled stupor, talking for what seem to be for ages, Mary had known the story: in the middle of the naval contract - she had overheard Edward telling the group about that before she left, he was careless enough to only know too late that all of the said doctor's men had weapons with poison on their blades, and turns out, he got a cut or two while chasing him down. The poison only settled in today, and after it drove him nuts in the span of a few minutes and a cup of rum, his... Sense among all things seemed to have gone haywire as well, noticed James' absence, and went looking for the so-called young lad who turned out to be fixing her corset.

He could have been wrong on some details, but Mary chose to ignore his comments and rambling, and instead, researched a bit on the poison that had afflicted him. The drug itself was not deadly – after reading and reviewing some texts that were conveniently in Edward's cabin, she discovered that it was a type of arsenic-based poison, some version of cantarella, which sends the patient to a drug-addled, dreamy stupor for some time. It usually lasts for a day or so, but it was nothing permanent, much to her relief.

The pallor did seem familiar to Mary. But upon further reading, the drug is fortunately the type that is quickly defeated by the body, and the worst thing Edward would encounter would be a fever and nothing else. He seems to be getting none of it, but he sure was acting like a child who chanced upon rum.

Still, she took some precautions, and gave him some honey and oranges along with the bitter medicine for the poison. Gladly, the ship had some rum in stock, for it was needed along with a few other medicines for it to work. Mary rarely encounters cantarella - it was rare these days since it was used way back before she was even born - but it was a precautionary lesson she was grateful for knowing. It took some time and some effort onto making Edward oblidge on the medicine, but after he said it smells like "the underbelly of Thatch's beard" - she knows it tastes absolutely horrid, but on all things to compare it with - she have to resort to threatening him to _force _the thing in his throat, and that did the trick. Mary was not definite as to why she bothered to stay, but the thought of her mistaking the type of cantarella to a more lethal one scared her, and she was a bit happy to even stay and tend to him, feeling like she was at fault for not dealing with it a lot earlier than she had.

"I'm glad I got sick." Mary's hand was already on his coat, peeling it off and replacing it with something warmer and more comfortable. Edward was a little too sick to complain, but he managed to utter out some words before the medicine sinks in his system.

"Is it because you get to lie around all day and all night?" The coat was off, his boots was off, and majority of his weapons strewn all around his body was removed. All that's left on him is a heavy coat and his pants, and a blanket, which Mary patiently tucked below his chin. She took great care to make it quick, and all and all, it seemed like a typical medical session with a fellow crewmate. The words from him seem to make her feel somewhat better about his condition, and it elicited a smile from her. "I figured as much."

"Because I never see James Kidd show me who he truly is." He pauses, the medicine taking its effect on him, as he pulled the sheets up his face. "I wish I would see James less and Mary more. That would be a beautiful sight… don't you think?"

That was the moment that made her realize that it was not much about her bosoms being exposed she was worried about, much less her physical contact with anyone. Heck, she had lived majority of her life posing as a man; so much that she was no longer a stranger wearing a man's boots. She was literally an expert in that.

But then, it was the eyes, those eyes that can see through the physical features of her body that scared her.

But Edward, strangely, was an exception.

..

"Ay, lad. What're women's articles doing on your hands? Getting laid or getting the woman's devil tongue?"

It was Thatch. A few months have gone by ever since that day – with Edward only remembering a trickle of the events and Mary leaving the port before he had the chance to ask. She was back there in Nassau for some restocking before they return to Tulum, with the Spanish being as stubborn as usual. Since Nassau seemed like the perfect place for her to get a new, more comfortable corset, she took the opportunity, gave her crewmates a week's worth of vacation, and went out with money in hand to get herself the item, along with a dress or two. Most of the contracts she has been doing as of late were infiltration operations, and sometimes seeing a lady wearing trousers with a sword and a pistol on her belt doesn't seem to convince most men nowadays.

The only problem is that, she has forgotten to switch back to her Mary persona in her haste and excitement, and Thatch chanced upon a James Kidd after purchasing a corset and dresses meant for a woman.

"I… have someone to give these to." The lie was smoothly spoken, and sure enough, Thatch merely raised an eyebrow. "Gifts, if you may." A pause, and James peers on the obviously tired Blackbeard, finding something to comment on to change the subject. "It seems to me you're neither drunk nor dead. And here I was waiting to see you again to see you in such situations!"

She was not serious, of course, and Thatch gladly took it as a joke, and laughed as heavily as he did when he is drunk. "Aye, I know someone else who I'm pretty certain you'd love to see inebriate. Kenway's on the shore, piss drunk, and now he's wailing for a certain Mary to tuck him to bed and kiss him like his wife would."

Of course, she knew who _that _was. But eliciting the most realistic laughter she could emit right now would be the wisest decision. "He's not doing a very great job on enticing a woman! I'm pretty sure that Mary would just slap him and throw him on a table."

"We told him that we're going to find his God-damned Mary," Thatch went on, motioning James to follow, "but 'no guarantees', we said. He just sang 'Barbara Allen' and dozed on a haystack afterwards." More laughter shared between the two of them, and the elder pirate's glance returned to the women's clothing in her hands.

"I… never knew you have a lover." An awkward pause, but it was merely because that Thatch treats James like his son that he never had, and giving fatherly advice seemed new; he was looking for words to use. "I'm not against it, but men your age usually have minds being tossed against the waves, you know?"

Mary merely smiles. "I don't see a different between that and having a lover, really."

Later that night, Edward saw her Mary sitting on his bedside, in a white dress and in a leather corset, with a flower on her hair and a smile on her face, no longer scared of showing herself openly to him. She pulled the blanket right under his chin, kissed him, and stayed until he fell asleep. And when he woke up, she was still there, waiting, and he gave him the very same kiss he had received.

Mary has never felt more exposed, more vulnerable… yet loved and cherished all at the same time. And she enjoyed just being Mary Read right with him.

* * *

_.~._

_A/N: I'll go draw a cover image as soon as I get on with it, but for now, have my old fanart. _

_I had some reckless fun writing this. (Mainly because I had no idea what I was writing.) __Thank you for reading, and please review what you think! C:_


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